


One Ring to Bind Them

by trialanderror12



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Children, Fluff, Intersex Loki, M/M, Marking, Marriage, Rings, Tattoos, but still, possessive!Loki, possessive!Thor, really it can’t lead to anything good, seriously don’t not tell kids they’re adopted, warning: excessive fluff consumption may cause cavities, well except this does eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialanderror12/pseuds/trialanderror12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I never want to lose this,” Thor breathed softly one night, twined around a sated Loki lying contentedly in his bed. Loki turned his head to gaze at him with uncharacteristic gentleness, and Thor’s heart twinged.</p><p>“You won’t,” Loki vowed, cupping his cheek and pulling him into a kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>Follows Thor throughout the years as he does his best to ensure this remains true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Ring to Bind Them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigynthefaithful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigynthefaithful/gifts).



“I never want to lose this,” Thor breathed softly one night, twined around a sated Loki lying contentedly in his bed. Loki turned his head to gaze at him with uncharacteristic gentleness, and Thor’s heart twinged.

“You won’t,” Loki vowed, cupping his cheek and pulling him into a kiss. “I’m not going anywhere,” he added when they parted, and Thor stared at him for several long moments before coming to a decision.

He reached above where Loki’s head laid—not too far, their arms were still curled around each other—and pulled the chain from its hiding place beneath the pillows. It made a soft metallic sound as he gathered it in his palm, a whisper of a question and a promise. He held the thick golden band it carried between his thumb and forefinger, and a startled expression stole across Loki’s face, increasing the tempo of Thor’s heart.

He slid the ring slowly over Loki’s finger, the chain still looped through the band and halting its progress before it could settle all the way down to where it belonged. But it traveled far enough to make it clear it would fit Loki perfectly, slot onto his hand as easily as if it had always been there, warm from the heat of their bodies against the sheets and an indelible symbol of their love.

“I would leave it here if I could,” he began gently, running a feather-light touch up the underside of Loki’s finger. “Claim you for all to see; shout to the rooftops of all the nine realms that such a bewitching creature is mine.” Loki’s eyes closed briefly, momentarily overwhelmed, and Thor kissed each eyelid back open, coaxing a hesitant hope onto his lover’s face. “If it were of my choosing I would take you proudly on my arm, show you off to the world, let all envy the future king of Asgard that such a man would rule by his side.” Thor’s throat closed around further words, his nerves getting the best of him, but an encouraging kiss from Loki revitalized him, and he sighed breathlessly against satin lips as he took heart in his brother’s sweet offering of comfort. 

“I would ask that you accept what I may offer you in the spirit I intend it,” he continued, emboldened by Loki’s stillness; glad to be spared from corralling his flighty lover long enough to explain, “and receive this pendant as a symbol of my unending love and affection; my commitment to stand by your side always, to be your partner and your counsel and your lover from now until the end of eternity.” Loki’s breaths were coming faster now, a catch in his throat as he shook slightly against Thor’s side. Thor paused to kiss him calm again, sweet, slow presses of their lips in the dark, and presently Loki settled. 

Thor swallowed thickly, heart beating faster as he tugged the chain to pull the ring from Loki’s finger, and Loki mewled once at the loss. “I would hang this round your neck,” Thor all but whispered, “and have it never leave again—a permanent reminder to lie against your heart and hold your thoughts to my vow, never doubting the depth of my love and fidelity as long as you shall live.” 

Loki shuddered in his arms and exhaled long and low, gathering himself to speak. He tried twice but couldn’t manage, eventually shaking his head and letting out a choked little laugh, looking helplessly at Thor. “Yes,” he finally got out, a note of disbelief and awe in his voice. “Yes, Thor, please.”

Thor unhooked the clasp and slid his hands around Loki’s neck, gently brushing his silky hair out of the way and slipping the chain into place. It would slide easily enough beneath his clothes, hidden from sight, but for now Thor wanted to see it. The physical evidence of his claim on Loki; of Loki’s acceptance. 

Loki’s fingers curled around the ring almost immediately, closing it in his hand and smoothing his thumb up and down one side over and over again. He seemed lost in thought, but Thor could stare at him like this forever, so he didn’t mind. After what could have been mere moments or an eternity he lifted his gaze to meet Thor’s, eyes soft in silent question. “Thor, can I…” he didn’t finish, but it didn’t matter. Whatever he wanted, the answer would be the same. Thor was powerless to deny Loki anything.

“Yes,” he told him aloud, in case he needed to hear it. He was pretty sure Loki knew he could get away with just about anything. But then again, sometimes the words were important, too. Loki was learning that, of late, though not so quickly that Thor had ceased to count and treasure each time he said _I love you_. 

Loki released his grip on the ring to take hold of Thor’s left hand, biting his lip in concentration. Thor felt a soft tingle and shivered, looking down to watch, mesmerized, as light blue sworls of ink faded into existence, the design linking together around his ring finger. Thor’s breath caught as he realized the meaning, and he linked their fingers together, unable to take his eyes off the barely-there lines on his hand. They were hardly noticeable if you weren’t looking, and Thor doubted anyone would pay any attention to Loki’s mark on him. But he would. He’d know. 

“Is it…”

“Permanent?” Loki finished for him. “Yes.” And gods if he didn’t look a little nervous at that, and if it didn’t make Thor love him even more. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed Loki’s all over, eyes closed in contentment and gratitude.

“Thank you,” he breathed, clutching Loki’s hand even tighter and feeling his smooth skin brush against the mark he’d left on Thor. _Loki’s_ , forever. “ _Thank you_ ,” he said again, and Loki didn’t seem nervous anymore; no, his gaze was soft and loving, tenderly affectionate.

“Come here,” he ordered gently, pulling Thor close, running his free hand through his hair with practiced ease. Thor closed his eyes again, and Loki ran soft fingers over the lids and lashes, carefully exploring. “I love you,” Loki said at last, and Thor’s eyes snapped open. Loki looked slightly pained at having said it, like his heart was too full to bear and he feared he might burst. Thor knew the feeling. He curled up on top of Loki, pillowing his head on his chest to listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart, and let Loki’s hand in his hair lull him to sleep.

—————

When Heimdall let slip the truth of his parentage several hundred years later, Loki’s entire world shattered around him.

He stared at Odin and Frigga in shock, unable to process the truth of what was happening, before releasing a howl of anguish and disbelief and rage, yanking the ever-present chain from his neck and throwing it on the ground. He wasn’t the person Thor had promised himself to, he thought in disgust. He wasn’t their parents’ child. He raised a hand, fully ready to disappear until he had things sorted out, until he—

“ _No!_ ” Thor snarled, advancing more swiftly than Loki could anticipate, roughly tangling their fingers together and yanking Loki’s body flush against his own. “You do not _dare_ ,” he roared, furious, shaking Loki a bit and watching his face transform into something terribly shocked and disbelieving. Odin and Frigga looked on, uncomprehending, but Thor paid them no heed—and of all that had happened Loki found this the hardest to accept, that Thor would lay claim on him where more eyes than their own could see.

“You marked me _forever_ ,” Thor growled, unable to remember a time he’d been more overwhelmed with white-hot anger and simultaneous, tremulous fear. He shook their joined hands, still raised between them, to draw Loki’s attention to the barely-there sworls of light blue ink he had painted on his skin, an age-old promise yet unbroken. “I cannot release your claim on me, and I would not have you cheapen mine by believing me so fickle as to _ever_ set you free of it,” he demanded, _desperate_ for Loki to see sense. 

“Thor—“ Loki choked out, his expression a mess of fear and pain and doubt, and Thor couldn’t bear it. He drew his beloved into a deep and passionate kiss, releasing his hand to curl his arms around the small of his back when Loki made a desperate, keening sound into his mouth and clutched at his lapel for support. He drew Loki down with him to his knees when they parted for air, unwilling to release him, and Loki clung to him and nuzzled at his neck and throat, pressing in as close as he possibly could. 

Thor released him for but a moment to snag the discarded chain from the floor, and he let the broken links slide easily through his hand and left them lying there on the stone, the ring his only object. He rubbed their foreheads together and nudged Loki’s face upward, presenting the untarnished gold band to bright, tearstained eyes. “I would have you wear it openly, now, and face what comes as ever, by your side.”

At this Loki’s tears finally fell, silent drops of rain, and Thor kissed them away before sliding the ring onto the slowly outstretched hand, the final act to seal the vow made centuries before. Loki collapsed easily into his arms then, letting loose soul-deep, heart wrenching sobs, and Thor clutched him to his breast and held him there, the sturdy calm in Loki’s storm.

—————

Thor had been consulting the court’s advisors and poring over dusty tomes for weeks, searching fruitlessly for a solution to his problem. Despite his best efforts, he had turned up nothing. And the wedding was only two weeks away.

He dragged his feet on the way back to his chambers, unpleasant thoughts of the conversation he was going to have to have with Loki flooding his mind. He pushed the double doors open and was greeted by a much more pleasing sight: Loki sitting with his knees tucked under him at Thor’s desk, tomes and sheafs of half-legible parchment scattering the surface. He’d commandeered the desk long ago, and the personal items in the room were more than half Loki’s easily—Thor had Mjolnir, and little need for possessions beyond her, but Loki was different. 

Loki had all but moved in years ago; he never slept in his own bed, only Thor’s, and he didn’t even go to hide in his room anymore when he needed a little peace and quiet. He trusted Thor with that need now; to know that a Loki curled up quietly in their bed needed to be held and petted and allowed to quietly reorder his thoughts. Thor found himself loving those times as well, more than happy to fold Loki into his arms and listen to the sound of his breathing for as long as he needed. They were happy, and Thor already got to have Loki with him almost all the time—they were practically married already. So what if Loki wanted to call off the wedding over his discovery? Thor could live with that, right? He would still have Loki; nothing else should matter.

He absently rubbed his thumb against the markings on his ring finger and bent to drop a kiss on the top of Loki’s head. “What are you working on?” he asked, lifting Loki up off the chair to sit beneath him and settling Loki back down on his lap. 

Loki hummed in acknowledgement, flexing his tired fingers and leaning backward into Thor’s embrace. “Nothing nearly so interesting as whatever it is you’re afraid to tell me,” he returned, and Thor winced. Sometimes it was hard to have another person know you so well. Then again, Loki could pull that particular trick with just about anybody. He was frustratingly perceptive like that. 

He tightened his grip on Loki’s waist and Loki covered his linked hands with his own, the cool metal of his ring sliding smoothly against the flickering blue flames on Thor’s skin. Thor sighed. “I’ve encountered a… roadblock in the wedding preparations,” he said at last. “I tried to find a way around it, but even Father’s oldest advisors don’t believe it’s possible. I’m afraid you won’t want to marry me anymore once I tell you,” he admitted quietly.

Loki startled in his arms at that, then quickly recovered and started stroking Thor’s forearm soothingly. “I can’t imagine anything you could tell me that would do that,” he assured Thor. “Whatever it is may well make me angry, but that doesn’t make it your fault and it certainly doesn’t mean I’d sacrifice the chance to wed you for it.” He twisted his head around for a quick kiss, then shifted a bit in his arms so he could curl up sideways against Thor, head on his chest and one arm around his neck. “Try me?” 

Thor sighed. “You and I are rather unprecedented in Asgardian law, especially as it relates to the throne,” he began. “As father’s oldest son, I must ascend the throne as King.” Loki pressed a kiss to his chest in acknowledgment, privately grateful that Thor hadn’t mentioned that really it was much more straightforward than that, given that Loki wasn’t really Odin’s biological heir at all. But Thor almost seemed to forget that most days, not that Loki minded. Whatever the circumstances of his birth, Odin and Frigga were his parents. Just as Thor remained his brother—as well as so much more.

Thor was biting his lip nervously instead of continuing, so Loki tried to encourage him. “I know. Your coronation is a week before the wedding. What of it?” Despite himself, he was starting to become a bit nervous—whatever had Thor this rattled had to be important, right?

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “That’s… not the problem.” He sighed. “As King, whoever I wed must bear my heirs.” Loki nodded again at this; all familiar territory. “And as such… After the wedding, my spouse must be coronated Queen.” Loki blinked. Was that all? “I looked for precedent, I even tried to get them to reconvene to change the bylaws,” Thor said quickly. “I did everything I could, trying to make it King instead for you, but apparently it “just isn’t done”. Asgard can only have one King, and I suppose they never predicted that a king might wed a man who could give him children. I’m sorry, Loki. I really tried,” he said earnestly, and Loki had to peck him quickly on the lips just to wipe that awful look from his face.

“I could do far worse in life than Queen,” Loki shrugged, stretching his arms and reclining back in Thor’s arms. Thor frowned at him, skeptical, and Loki rolled his eyes. “Thor. We’re getting married. We don’t have to hide anymore. I’ll birth your spawn in a few decades—” now Loki _did_ make a slight grimace at that, apparently he hadn’t quite gotten used to that particular side effect of his birth—“and we’ll all be one big family living happily ever after. You can crown me the Prince of Pond Scum for all I care—I’m going to be _yours_. And _everyone_ will know it. Not a soul will dare try to take you from me.” A different gleam suffused Loki’s eyes now, and Thor shivered. “Now, what I _really_ hear here is that we have several parties coming up shortly. Two coronations and a wedding.”

Thor nodded, and Loki smirked. “Well, then, I suppose we ought to get practicing,” he leered, and Thor gulped.

“Practicing? Practicing what?”

The grin on Loki’s face was positively sinful. “ _Celebrating_ ,” he insisted, drawing Thor down for a hard, wet kiss.

—————

The three walked hand-in-hand in the bright noonday sun, their comfortable silence broken only by Hagen’s occasional squeals of laughter as a butterfly lit on his nose or a squirrel ran hurriedly across their path. Thor caught Loki’s eye and grinned when he nodded in agreement, tightening his grip to make sure he had a strong hold on his son. 

“One, two, _three_!” Loki called out, his eyes dancing with laughter, and on three they raised their arms simultaneously, lifting Hagen into the air where he hung, suffused with delighted giggles, for a few moments before they let him down. 

“Catch me if you can!” he called out when his feet hit the ground, letting go of their hands and running ahead in the direction of their favorite picnic spot. Thor laughed and took Loki’s hand instead, turning his head to kiss him soundly on the cheek. 

“Opportunistic little brat. Takes after you,” Thor grinned, keeping an eye on Hagen out of the corner of his eye as he focused his attention on Loki.

“No, I think not… He runs headlong quite readily into all sorts of potentially dangerous situations. He’s boisterous and reckless, just like you; I’m not sure how I’m meant to handle two. One of you will someday be the death of me!” 

“Ah, but what a pleasant death that would be, my Queen,” Thor teased. Loki rolled his eyes.

“You know very well I am more than happy to bear that title, _brother_ ,” he said with a sly, lascivious grin. Thor was startled, but that shifted quickly to _pleased_. He let out a hardy laugh and pulled Loki in for a kiss, holding him close.

“I had no idea you were so fixated, _brother_ ,” Thor drawled in reply, drawing back to see mischief and laughter dancing in Loki’s eyes. “Have you a game you wish to play?” he asked, voice low and rumbling deep, and Loki shivered. 

“Later, brother, I most certainly _do_ ,” Loki replied, twining their fingers more closely together and pulling ever-so-slightly away. “But for the moment I am more than satisfied to be your husband, and if you will mark our child, you will see there are other sorts of games to play at present.”

Indeed, Thor glanced over into the far garden to find Hagen had arrived at their spot and was dancing, delighted laughter carrying through the air as Frigga spun dishes and teacups in the air, a parlor trick she had often amused Loki with as a child.

A lump formed in Thor’s throat, and he tugged Loki’s hand back when he made to step forward, overwhelmed by the memory. Loki looked at him in question, and Thor pulled him into an embrace. “I was remembering Mother coaxing that same laughter from you as a child,” he offered after a moment, smoothing a hand tenderly down Loki’s spine. Loki stayed still in his arms, content to allow Thor time to gather his thoughts. “I think that’s when I first fell in love with you,” he admitted into Loki’s hair at last, unwilling to face his lover’s face as he made the confession. The sheer joy Loki had derived from so simple a pleasure had struck a chord in the young Thor, who had found the whirling china of little interest in the wake of that golden, intoxicating laughter. Still a child himself, he had reveled in it, taking great pleasure in studying the joy on Loki’s face each time the plates spun; the trick had become a favorite of his own for an entirely different reason, each peal of laughter suffusing his heart with love.

“Mmmh,” Loki murmured contentedly into his chest, tilting his head slightly backward to meet Thor’s gaze. “I’m afraid I still win, big brother; I have no memory of this life without your love in it.”

Thor laughed, deep and thunderous and joyful in every part of his heart. “You never could stand to lose, my brother,” he grinned, soaking in every ray of the blazing sun that was Loki.

“No, not at _any_ game,” Loki agreed teasingly, pulling away and taking a few deliberate steps down the path. “Catch me if you can?” he challenged over his shoulder, lifting up off the ground and into the form of a great hawk, soaring down the rolling hill to where their son and mother waited for them.

Thor let out a bark of joyous laughter and summoned Mjolnir to his hand, leaping readily after him. Win or lose, he already had his prize. And it was glorious.


End file.
